


Not in Blood, but in Bond

by WinryWeiss



Category: Tintin (Comics), Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinryWeiss/pseuds/WinryWeiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bond between Tintin and Captain Haddock is beyond mere friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely no beta.
> 
> Tintin's POV.

I could not get that thought out of my head. I did occupied my mind with other problems – mysteries to solve, plans for our next journey, articles to write – but it always came spiraling back. Each time more intensive, more urgent. And more bitter, since there is no way it could be truth.

 

I remember that evening clearly, that pompous party for signora Castafiore to celebrate yet another successful performance of hers. The desperation in Captain’s eyes when he had to promise that the three of us will surely come, Professor’s enthusiasm and Nestor’s silent pondering about what he need to do to prepare us perfectly. And probably what sort of beverage he needs to use to bribe Captain for not pretending a sudden illness. Then the party itself, fancy event indeed. Plenty of people in glamorous, luxurious dresses, refined and expensive tuxedos, gentility present everywhere.  
  
Of course, Captain was nervous. “Lad,” he told me, “I’ll do something embarrassing surely.”  
  
“Surely not, Captain.” I patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Just keep your distance from fragile things.”  
  
He gave me an injured look, but I saw his lips curl into soft smile, then he sighed and reached up to straighten my tie.  
  
That was when signora Castafiore bumped into us, dragging some ladies with her. She started to chatter, introducing us by the way and then floated away, leaving us with pack of talkative ladies, who were _very_ eager to get to know us better.  
  
“Oh, so you were a sea captain, mister Haddock?”  
  
“And you are a journalist, young boy?”  
  
“Will you tell us about your voyages, sir Haddock?”  
  
“What sort of articles do you write, Tintin?”  
  
“Oh, mister Haddock, you must be proud to have such a skilful son.”  
  
 _Son_. They thought that I am Haddock’s son. And neither of us corrected them.

 

The feeling I had back then, when they made that wrong estimation, was warm. Warmer than anything. And pleasant. Nearly overpowering the one I had when Captain proposed me to move to Marlinspike.  
  
I want it to be truth. I want to really be his son. Why it is not like that? Why couldn’t I have been born to him? Then I wouldn’t be growing up in that ... that place ... that dreadful orphanage. Then I would have loving father. ... But probably, I wouldn’t be the one I am.  
  
But still …  
  
 _Still_ …  
  
“C’mere, laddie, what’s wrong?” Strong and warm hand covers my shoulder, stopping me.  
  
“Ah, Captain …” I look at him surprised, realizing that I walked along him in total silence for nearly whole hour, while he was probably talking at me. “I have been thinking about something.”  
  
“Well, I noticed that.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t.” He smiles at me gently. “Can I help ya?”  
  
“I … don’t think so.” I squeeze his hand, peeling it from my shoulder. “Let’s enjoy the market, shall we?”  
  
“I’m already doin’ that, m’boy.”  
  
“And did you found something interesting?”  
  
“Apart from Snowy’s passion to chase brainlessly after pigeons?”  
  
I laugh. “Like you didn’t know that.”

 

Sigh, no story for me on the market. But we found a lovely antique meerschaum, which dad didn’t resist and bought.  
  
Wait.  
  
 _Dad?_  
  
I feel chills up my spine. Did I really, really … ?  
  
“Lad? Ya sure yer fine? Yer pale as sheet.”  
  
“Yes. Yes, da…t’s fine. I’m fine.”  
  
“Tintin, listen, if yer not feelin’ good …”  
  
Snowy starts barking furiously as a group of dangerously looking thugs surrounds us.  
  
Oh, no, _not again_.  
  
“We have more pressing issue here, Captain.”  
  
“What, _again_?”  
  
They attack without any care for the street full of people and I must admit that they are good. But me and da…Captain were in too many fights. And Snowy is great help. We could hold ourselves against bigger groups.  
  
But somehow they got us separated. Captain ends up encircled by five of them. Well, four, the fifth is trying to shake off Snowy desperately. I’m facing a beefy one and a beanpole and they are giving me pretty hard time.  
  
“TINTIN! WATCH OUT!” Captain voice is terrified.  
  
I glance at him just in time to see how one of those men trips him up while the other hits him hard to back, sending him to ground.  
  
He does not move.  
  
 _He does not move!_  
  
“DAD!” That scream rise from my mouth and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.  
  
And then, darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

My head hurts.  
  
 _“It was wrong.”_  
 _Father Dominic looked like eagle above prey. Grey hair shone in dim light of his office, softening sharp features, but not the ice in his eyes._  
 _“It was wrong and you’ll be punished for disobeying the rules.”_  
 _He rose up and I sensed fear rushing through my whole body._  
  
My head hurts.  
  
 _I could not tear off my eyes from him. From the cane he took to his hand and swiped for trial._  
 _“Bend over my desk.”_  
 _“No.”_  
 _He hit me squarely to my face. “Bend over my desk.”_  
 _I stifled a sniff and obeyed._  
 _“You.” Slam. “Are.” Slam. “Very.” Slam. “Naughty.” Slam. “Boy.” Slam. “And that is the reason why your parent gave you up.” SLAM._  
 _No._  
  
My head hurts.  
  
I open my eyes and breathe in sharply.  
  
“Ah. You finally awakened.” Cold voice with strong accent. Slavonic. Russian?  
  
I turn myself to face it’s owner. I stared blindly on him for a while, memorizing his features. Tall man in his late thirties, thin but muscular, pale and sly.  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
“My name is Jerzy.”  
  
Oh, Polish.  
  
I sit myself up, tugging the ropes that bound my wrists tentatively. “Pleasure to meet You, sir. What can I do for You?”  
  
He looks at me dumbfounded. Being polite always works.  
  
“Chch. Płeasure at my side. But I am afraid, that our biznes would not be so … nice.”  
  
Oh, and I thought that I tied up all the loose ends in that case of forgery. Well. I stretch my hands as far as I could, examining the knots. “You were hired by mister Wołochowski to get me out of his way.” I declare simply.  
  
Another amazed look and then he laughs loudly. “Yes. Dokładnie. Erm, exactly. Your reputation precedes you, panie Tintin.”  
  
He sighs and rises from the chair he had been sitting up till now. “It pains me to do this.” He takes a cane, which was placed on a nearby crate. “I’m really, really sorry.”

 

My whole body hurts.  
  
 _You are wrong._  
 _You are misbehaved._  
 _You are unwanted._  
 _You were abandoned._  
 _You do stick your nose to things which doesn’t concern you._  
 _You shall be punished!_  
 _“Yer my Angel.”_  
  
I lost track of time.  
  
 _“Tintin.” Captain’s voice was gentle._  
 _I was too sleepy to react._  
 _“Oh, lad, where are ya sleepin’?”_  
 _I heard his steps creaking on the old wooden floor of Marlinspike main study._  
 _“Yer get stiff all over, if yer be sleepin’ with face in book.”_  
 _I probably mumbled something incoherent._  
 _“C’mere, laddie. Ya need to get to yer bed.” And he lifted me easily to his arms. I curled instinctively, leaning into his warmth. But too soon he laid me to my bed, pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. “Sleep well, my boy.”_  
 _Warm._  
 _Safe._  
 _Loving._  
  
I want to go home.  
  
I force my eyes to open and shift slightly. The light has changed. Again. How many times was it? I struggle myself on my back while moaning silently. Jerzy had beaten me over and over but he had never hit my face. Claiming it would be shame to spoil such a beauty. It doesn’t matter to me. All I am concerned about is Captain. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he fell to the ground after that blow. Silently. Lifelessly. Is he all right? Is he injured? Is he on the verge of nerve collapse since I didn’t returned yet? And what happened with Snowy?  
  
But there is no way for me to make yet another miraculous escape.  
  
Not in my current state.  
  
Not with a broken leg.  
  
But I **must** find a way, I simply must.  
  
The door to my private storehouse cell is thrown open and Jerzy walks inside. “Myślę … I underestimated your companions.” With his always kind expression, he squats down to me and pats gently on my broken leg. And then jerks with it.  
  
I scream.  
  
“Boy, your father is one hell of a scary guy.”  
  
“C…Captain?” I sense hope swell in my chest.  
  
“Tak. He was like bulldog those last few days, searching for you high and low. But I really didn’t expect him to sniff out this place.”  
  
I laugh. That’s my boy, Snowy.  
  
“Panie Tintin, I got paid for disposing you of. And I’m professional.”  
  
“So are my friends.”  
  
“That’s why we are going for a little walk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small Polish dictionary for those in need.
> 
> "Panie Tintin" means "Mister Tintin"  
> "Myślę" means "I think"  
> "Tak" means "So" or "Exactly"


	3. Chapter 3

I am always polite. Not just because I want to be treated with respect. I learnt that it is the easiest way how to communicate with people. And it is my decision, not to be like those who had to raise me.  
  
But I can be a pretty uncooperative spoiled brat, when I want.  
  
And right now, _I feel like it_.  
  
So, the score is:  
  
Broken leg, bruises, scratches, overall batter, gag (from Jerzy’s own silk tie) and state near unconsciousness on my side.  
  
On theirs, well … knocked out teeth (more than ten), bruises, scratches, bite marks and one nearly bitten off pinkie, kicked ribs (some of them definitely broke), smashed pride. Aaand, I disheveled Jerzy. I’m proud of myself.  
  
But nevertheless, they dragged me to main storage room.  
  
“You little skurwysyn.” Jerzy is pale with anger. That is great, I managed to break his self-control. He will make a mistake.  
  
I could hear the racket outside. It is still far away, but Thompson and Thomson must have called a lot of reinforcements. Jerzy sent his men away, giving them orders in their native language I’m not so fluent in. We were left alone.  
  
“So, panie Tintin.” Jerzy pulls out his pistol. “What about we play a Russian roulette?”  
  
“You are a Polish.”  
  
“Then I shot you right between eyes.” He aims the gun at me.  
  
“DON’T YA DARE YA SWEETWATER SWINE!”  
  
 _Dad_.  
  
“Dad!”  
  
Jerzy’s eyes widen with surprise, but he jerks me up, holding me as a shield. I cry out, because my broken leg protests.  
  
“TINTIN!”  
  
“DON’T!” Jerzy shoves his pistol under my chin. “Proszę. Stay where you are. You don’t want anything happen to him, right?”  
  
I’m barely standing, I must lean on that horrible man.  
  
Captain locks his eyes with mine. “Yer fine?”  
  
“So so.”  
  
“Wołochowski has been arrested.” Captain cast his look behind me and then again looks firmly into my eyes.  
  
 _Oh_.  
  
“Bad for him. But he already did pay me.” Jerzy aims at him, the finger on trigger shivering.  
  
“Bad for ya.” Dad looks at Jerzy for the first time. “Ya ain’t gonna finish this job. Let him go.”  
  
Jerzy laughs. “You are ordering me? Without a gun?”  
  
“Let him.”  
  
“Chch. No.”  
  
“Get him!”  
  
Snowy barks, appearing from behind us and diving his teeth to Jerzy’s leg. Named one yelps, loosening his grip on me and I force my elbow to his stomach. He huffs, fires his gun blindly when I strike him down with my left hook, balancing on my unbroken leg.  
  
I grin satisfied and turn to face dad … Captain. But that movement skew my balance and I fall down.  
  
Right into his waiting arms.  
  
“That totterin’ troglodyte!" Dad hugs me tightly. "He fired! He _really_ fired.”  
  
“Does it hit you?" I hug him back, desiring the safety of his embrace. "Please, _please_ , say you aren't injured.”  
  
“I'm fine. Yer the one who need hospital.”  
  
“Sure. But are you …?”  
  
“Boy, my boy, my little Angel," he kisses my forehead, rocking me gently, "never, **never again** , make me so worried.”

 

Thompson and Thomson were fussing about me. I congratulated them for perfectly carried out action. Doctors in the hospital were fussing about me. But there was nothing to complain about, it is their job. Nestor was fussing about me. I asked for dinner. And I got a feast. Professor was fussing about me. I questioned him about his newest inventions. Snowy rescued me after hour. And Captain … Well, dad will be always fussing about me.  
  
He is sleeping in an armchair close to my bed with Snowy snuggled on his lap. But I do not want to sleep. I’m just lying in the dark, listening to his calm breathing.  
  
I would have never guessed, that he will mean so much for me. That he will be like father for me. That he will love me more than my own parents.  
  
“Dad.” I whisper.  
  
“Ya know, boy,” he says sleepily, “this is third time ya called me like that.”  
  
“I … You … I thought … You weren’t sleeping?” I stammer, sensing the blush taking over my face.  
  
“To miss you call me ‘dad’ again? No way.”  
  
“You don’t mind?” I squeak, disgusted by how weak I must sound.  
  
“It makes me happy.”  
  
“Dad,” I whisper. “Daddy …” I stretch my hands toward him, sensing myself falling apart.  
  
He carries Snowy to my bed and embraces me securely within heartbeat. “I’m here.”  
  
He will catch me when I fall.  
  
He will cover my back anytime.  
  
He is my father, not in blood, but in bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small Polish dictionary for those in need.  
> "Skurwysyn" means ... erm, it is swearing, best traslated as "son-of-a-b***h"  
> "Proszę" means "Please"


End file.
